


The First Drop

by IOnlyWriteKinkandFeels



Series: A Gentle Release [7]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Consensual Kink, Dean isnt good at self care, Dean plays with a woman, Dom/sub Undertones, Drunkenness, Gen, NSK, Platonic BDSM, Platonic Relationships, Sam fixes the problem, Sam is a good brother okay?, Showering Dean, So sam does it for him, Subdrop, Subspace, The scene is interrupted, non sexual kink, platonic kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-30
Updated: 2018-01-30
Packaged: 2019-03-11 11:03:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13522905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IOnlyWriteKinkandFeels/pseuds/IOnlyWriteKinkandFeels
Summary: Dean experiences his first drop, which leaves both brothers baffled.





	The First Drop

**Author's Note:**

> This will not be the only drop fic, there's another on the way, but I wanted to do this one first.

Things were going great. No real injuries on hunts, things were consistent, as far as Dean and Sam keeping their “appointments” each week. Dean even managed to strike better luck at bars, which Sam was less enthused about.

 

So naturally, in the bar where the girl who was checking him out, Dean got suspicious. Things were getting  _ too _ good, as he barely concealed his squint at the beautiful and mostly sober girl before him.

 

“Right, sorry. I know a lot of guys aren't really into girls who take charge. Didn't mean to make you all squinty eyed and suspicious.” she joked, in attempt to lighten the mood.

  
  


“No, it's totally not you.” Dean was quick to correct, “It's just, how take charge are we talking, here?”

 

The girl hummed, coyly licking the straw from her drink. Dean waited, curious, and definitely wanting to be game from the look on her face.

 

“Well…” she leaned in to whisper, “I have a bit of a playroom in my apartment, if you wanna see?”

 

Dean nodded, motioning for her to lead the way. She pulled him off, all confidence and swagger, almost like the persona Dean put on, but more authentic. They left the bar scene for a short brisk walk, before suddenly the girl pinned Dean in an alley, seemingly out of nowhere. Her lips were attacking his, nips and bites and roaming hands.

 

Dean was taken by surprise, nearly going into fight or flight until he understood and let it happen. She sandwiched him between the wall and herself, firmly as she ended up breaking the kiss for some hickeys trailing to what she could reach of his chest. Her heels gave her just enough height to not have to force him down for what she wanted, but she made it clear with the impromptu make out that there would be no hesitation to jerk him about. She definitely wasn't kidding, and Dean wasn't backing out.

 

She pulled away completely, lips red and a bit puffy, the gloss she was wearing smeared completely off. “Damn, most guys run for the hills.” 

 

“I guess we’re both glad I'm not.” Dean panted, staring at her lips.

 

“Definitely.” she hummed. “Last chance to back out. That wasn't even the warm up.”

 

Dean let out a groan at that, biting his lip. “Fuck you just keep getting hotter and hotter.”

 

She chuckled, giving him another kiss that made his head spin. She pulled away, and announced almost completely non sequitur “Em.”

 

“Harris.” Dean replied, recalling the alias they needed for this town’s case.

 

Em lead him away again, this time making it to an actual apartment before any further shenanigans took place. The light flicked on and she was pulling him by the hand to a spare room without any further preamble. 

 

Dean’s eyes grew wide. “I was expecting a few things here and there, not a kink playground. Jesus the only thing missing is a fuck chair.”

 

The room wasn't whole ass 50 Shades of Gray, but it was still a lot of shit for someone who lived in an apartment, presumably alone. There was a collection of penetrative play toys lined on shelves, from dildos to anal beads. There was what Dean believed was a sybian, and other things he hadn't seen enough kinky porn to put names to. 

 

Em searched his face, trying not to scare him off. “We don't have to use any of this, if you still want to at all.”

 

Dean gave her credit for trying to make it clear the choice was all his and stooped to kiss her again. She kissed back after a moment, not as eager as the alleyway makeout, just letting him set the pace.

 

He pulled away, taking a glance around. “Give me the tour and we’ll decide together.”

 

The fun was broken up by a call from Sam. Dean had hardly been aware until Em grounded him enough to be outside of his own head. Whatever they'd been doing had been great.

 

“Yeah?” he drawled into the phone.

 

“So get this,” Sam started, “the shifter left his skin in a sewer. That's probably where his lair is.” 

 

“Right, way to go little brother. Meet you in 10.” Dean slurred a bit as he shrugged his shirt on one arm, and switched hands to do the other.

 

“You sound wrecked, we can't go tonight.” Sam insisted.

 

“Nah, Sammy, I'm a man who had a good time.” Dean winked to Em with that flirty smile.

 

Em gave a nearly predatious smirk back.

 

Sam scoffed. “Good time or not, don't drive anywhere until you've sobered up. I'm not looking forward to jacking another car and towing the Impala to Bobby if you wreck it.”

 

Dean snorted, fumbling with the buttons on his shirt. “shut up, bitch, I'll be there soon.”

 

“Jerk.” could be heard as Dean hung up and shoved his phone in his pants.

 

Dean stumbled through the door of the hotel, still moderately drunk on questionable amounts of liquor and that floaty feeling in his head Sam brought him. He kicked off his boots and tossed his keys on the end table, choosing to ignore the look Sam gave him.

 

“Dean.” he demanded after a tense moment.

 

“Yeah, Sam?” Dean didn't meet his gaze.

 

Sam stood and crossed the gap between them in two large strides, taking Dean’s face in his hands. “How the hell did you drive here?”

 

Dean shrugged, not really having an answer, and feeling too tired to actually pull some cocky answer out of his ass.

 

Sam rolled his eyes and came back with a bottle of water and two aspirin, setting them down with more force than strictly necessary. His stern look dared the other brother to object.

 

Dean didn't dare, chugging the water and aspirin, and downing another half bottle Sam offered immediately thereafter. 

 

“You're getting eggs if you're still hungover tomorrow.” Sam asserted. 

 

Dean hardly listened, just getting himself under the covers.

 

The hum of pleasant calm in his head turned to a dull hangover the next morning. Sam didn't delay pouring him into the car and driving to a diner. He ordered for them both, extra eggs and toast on both their plates for Dean. 

 

He munched on the corner of a toast, squinting to keep the light out of his eyes. “Tell me about the shifter.” 

 

“We’re not going after the shifter until you can pull yourself together.” Sam said.

 

“Damn it, Sam, I'm fine.” Dean growled.

 

Sam arched a brow at the irritable behavior. Usually he wasn't an angry drunk, or pissy hung over. Something was wrong and he didn't like it.

 

“I'm a hunter, getting fucked is what we do, in every sense of the word. I'm fine, and I've been drunk and hungover on hunts before. You didn't even notice.” Dean nearly growled.

 

“I noticed. You having the alcoholic tolerance of a Russian veteran doesn't mean I didn't notice you were drunk. You always drink, so you always have booze going through you, and I always watch you before the hunt to make sure you can. While you're driving too. There's a reason I don't sleep much in the car, Dean. This is me telling you to listen to me.” 

 

Dean gave an irate look. “ _ You _ look after  _ me _ ?” he scoffed, rolling his eyes.

 

“Yes. Because clearly I'm the only one capable of Making rational decisions and being a hunter simultaneously.” Sam glared back, arms crossed.

 

“You wanna know how that is, Sammy? Because Dad made damn sure to make you the perfect one. I was just the fucked up first attempt and you were the perfect son.” Dean hissed to keep himself from shouting and causing a scene.

 

Sam was taken aback. “What are you talking about, I wasn't anywhere near perfect. All he did was yell all day as far as I was concerned.”

 

“At least he looked at you. Noticed you.  _ Cared enough  _ to argue.” Dean practically threw his toast back to his plate in his upset. “For me? It was always orders. And God help me if I disobeyed.” tears came to his eyes, as his voice cracked.

 

“Dean, where is this coming from?” Sam pleaded, voice dripping concern.

 

Dean was already running away, to the bathroom. Sam was left in a tailspin of confusion, what was he to do? Dean wasn't a sloppy dirty laundry drunk, and he'd clearly had a few last night. But he also said he had fun, which probably means a woman was involved. But sex didn't make him like that either.  _ What happened?  _ Sam was at a loss.

 

A few minutes later Dean came out, looking haggard and green around the gils. He went straight for the car, coming back with the corner of a tube of toothpaste sticking out of his jacket pocket. Sam gave chase, immediately. 

 

“What's wrong with you? Did you get alcohol poisoning?” 

 

“Shut up.” Dean growled around the toothbrush, scrubbing for all he was worth.

 

“You're the one always preaching no chick flick moments. Don't give me something to worry over if you don't want me to be concerned.” Sam challenged, internally wincing at the accidental harshness of the words.

 

Dean fell silent, not willing to even look at Sam through the mirror. He spat out the frothy foam of the paste and rinsed. They both pretended not to see the swirls of pink twist down the drain. “Go pay the bill. We're done here.”

 

Sam locked the door, the two of them hidden away. “We aren't leaving until you tell me what you did.”

 

Dean swallowed thickly, his Adam's apple bobbing under the stress. “scene with me and I'll tell.”

 

Sam's brows shot to his hairline, jaw threatening to drop. “Dean I-”

 

“Sam, you're always asking me to tell you when I need it and now that I do you  _ won't  _ help me?” Dean was on the verge of tears again, gritting his teeth.

 

Sam held a baited breath as he thought carefully. “You're in no condition to scene. You must know it. I want to help, Dean, but you gotta throw me a bone, here.”

 

He scowled, trying to force his way past to unlock the door and storm out. Sam caught him, forcing him flush against the wall on instinct. Dean seemed to search his eyes, pleading for a scene silently, his body starting to unwind in tiny fragments as he forced the tension from his shoulders slowly, hoping Sam wouldn't notice they were nearly meeting his ears in the upset.

 

Sam let him go, hesitantly. He followed behind and dropped a twenty at the table while Dean stormed off to the impala, doing his best impersonation of a tornado. When Sam ducked into the car, Dean, predictably, wouldn't even look at him. The radio wasn't even on to mask the tense silence. The hotel couldn't come quick enough.

 

Sam noticed an odd tick. Dean was kneading at his shoulder, but there were no hunts that had given him such an injury, nor had Sam himself. Dean continued to knead at himself, desperate to get a little of the calm endorphin rush to ease whatever issue he was having. His fingers and nails viciously attacked the area above his collar bone, insistent but with a feral, impatient want simmering beneath the surface if the set in his jaw was anything to go by.

 

Dean must have scened with this girl. He sometimes alluded to going out and grabbing the kinkier women at bars. Whether or not he did so on purpose was beside the point, Sam supposed. 

 

“Did she take care of you?” Sam asked.

 

Dean stopped digging his nails into his flesh to give Sam a look, then pulled into the lot. He slammed the door to baby hard enough to rattle her with Sam still inside. He took to a brisk pace toward the room, his strides the size of cement blocks. 

 

Sam sighed and went after him, calmly ignoring Dean’s near slam of the door to his face. “I don't care if that's what you did. If it's like that with women, that's fine. Maybe you'll be more consistent.” 

 

Dean gave a scowl. “Shut your fucking face.”

 

At least he was speaking, Sam realized. Him going silent was much worse. Sam watched Dean for a moment, understanding sparked behind his eyes.

 

“I’ll scene with you.”

 

The older brother looked equal parts skeptical and hopeful.

 

“Strip.” Sam said.

 

Dean took a moment to get rid of his shirts, tossing them to the side. Sam let him get away with it, because that wasn't the issue now. His eyes were drawn to the rather agitated bruise Dean had been abusing in the Impala. It looked not far from bleeding, nail indents still visible from pinching and clawing. The outer ring looked just as horrendous from the aggressive kneading fingers and press of knuckles. This was worse than he could have imagined.

 

“The bed, your stomach.” Sam commanded as he approached.

 

Dean easily followed suit, tension ebbing from him slowly as he spread himself over the bed. Sam sat next to him, then climbed to straddle his brother's hips. Dean accepted his brother's weight resting firmly atop him, now comforting and grounding. He hardly noticed the clink of objects being placed on the night table.

 

He heard a cap pop open, and opened his eyes, only a realize he couldn't see what Sam was doing and that somewhere along the way his eyes had closed. Dean frowned, tensing up further. Sam placed a large hand to the middle of his back, and waited for Dean to settle. Eventually the older brother closed his eyes again, took a deep breath, and relaxed his body as best he could. 

 

Sam was pleased, to say the least, rubbing the lube between his hands. They only had holy oil and lube, so Sam took his chances. He'd just have to make sure Dean took a thorough shower afterward. Once the lube turned rubbing oil warmed in his hands, he rubbed at Dean's shoulders, end to end and working inwards until his hands met at the middle. Dean sighed beneath him after a long moment. Sam took it as a good sign and continued, taking small breaks for more slick. 

 

Dean was almost close to that floaty space in his head. Almost close, but not close enough to really let himself go. His body was lax and pliant beneath Sam as he rubbed away, but his mind still roamed, even if it was quieter than before. They don't carry oils. Not even for spells.

 

“What?” he slurred out.

 

Sam took a moment to understand what Dean meant, before replying. “Right. We didn't have anything better so I'm using the water based lube. I can't let you get too far down because you'll need a shower to be safe.” 

 

Dean opened his eyes lazily, lips pushing up into the usual “That's what I would've done” set. He closed his eyes again after a moment, sighing contentedly as Sam finally loosened a particular spot he'd been worrying at all night. 

 

This wasn't a scene by Dean's standards, but he'd deal with it. He drifted, finally at that place of calm he needed to feel alright and safe. He openly groaned when Sam placed a hand at his neck to bring him back. He ignored the chuckle Sam gave if only because he was too relaxed to kick his brother's ass right now.

 

Sam manhandled his brother into the bathroom, Dean's arm slung over his shoulder as he half drug him into the small shower space. He slumped him against the wall of the tub, careful and insistent. Luckily they decided to splurge and get a room with a movable shower head. Sam gave a little sigh of relief upon getting Dean settled and getting him down to his underwear. His boots, jeans, socks, and belt were all haphazardly discarded across the floor, joined with his own shirt. Sam stayed with his hand on Dean's neck until he was lucid enough to hold himself up alone.

 

Dean missed the floaty feeling. Like a kiss that'd been too brief, or a hunt that was underwhelmingly easy. He hunched over with his back to Sam as required, the feeling of loss washing away with the lube as the water hit his back. That was nice too, warm and with light enough water pressure to keep him from jerking up out of his headspace. He had to fight to keep himself from sinking again, but Sam was quick enough to keep him from becoming jelly in the tub. 

 

Before Dean knew it, there was a towel scrubbing him dry. Then fresh clothes (when had Sam taken off his underwear? Didn't he protest?) And Sam carrying him back to bed. He only remembers waking up the next morning, feeling worlds better. It startled him awake, even, as he jerked his body up to sitting position.

 

Sam was on his laptop, researching as always. “Drop.” was all he said.

 

“What?” Dean's face screwed into a confused parody of itself.

 

“You experienced drop, yesterday. A severe one at that. Did she  _ not  _ take care of you like I do?” Sam barreled on full speed ahead, as though Dean would understand the research he'd done with those meager words.

 

Dean shrugged. “We did stuff and it was good, and when we were getting to that you called about the case.” 

 

Sam frowned. “why didn't you tell me? I wouldn't have minded making sure you got what you needed. She didn't bring you up properly. You  _ drove  _ in headspace and  _ drunk! _ ” 

 

Dean hardly remembered the drive. He Hardly remembers anything of the past two days. “It didn't come to me at the time. I felt fine.” 

 

“You mean drunk.” Sam countered.

 

Dean didn't rebuke the statement. 

 

Sam was off put by the silence, but crossed the gap to Dean's bed and wrapped his arms around him. “I'm only worried about you.”

 

Dean hugged his brother back, a little grin stretching on his lips. “No chick flick moments.”

**Author's Note:**

> Please. I'm poor and I just want to survive. http://ko-fi.com/lencrestmere


End file.
